


First encounters

by billie758657



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, I feel like there should be more tags, Mind Fuck, Negan Being Negan, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billie758657/pseuds/billie758657
Summary: Imaging singing and dancing in the sanctuary one night and Negan catches you.





	

 “Rock me mamma like a wagon wheel, rock me mamma anyway you feel. Heyyy-y mamma rock me.”

You croon softly to yourself in the dim light, swaying your hips in time to the silent rhythm of an old song. The canteen had been long since deserted and if you were honest, that was how you preferred it. Not to be ungrateful of course, but after spending so long out there on your own, being as quiet as possible, all the noise was a little overwhelming. 

Your last job of the day was to mop canteen floor, covered in muddy boot prints and other unidentifiable stains - not that you cared enough to identify them anyway. You were almost done too, the tables pushed back to let the floor dry properly. It was cathartic in a way, being able to loose yourself in the methodical task. Almost everyone was in bed, biters were outside, it was a rare occasion these days that you felt safe and you allowed yourself to enjoy every second of it. 

“Rock me mamma like the wind and the rain, Rock me mamma like a southbound train. Heyyy-y mamma rock me.”

Smiling to yourself you sashay to the left and the right, caught up in a memory of a much happier time, the moonlight drifting from the large factory windows illuminating your path. Spinning round to replace the mop into the bucket something catches your eye.

A figure silhouetted in the doorway, a man even. A tall man at that, taking up most of the space. For a short second you just gape at the sight, trying to figure out who it could be and why they would still be up at this time. Then you notice the jagged silhouette of a baseball bat hanging from the man’s hand.

It was Negan. 

You had only seen the man twice before, only in passing too. Not that you got a good look at his face, only his boots and of course, Lucielle. You followed suit with the other people falling to their knee for him not that you’d been there long enough to fathom exactly why they did it, but if that was the way things worked here then you weren’t about to rock the boat. It wasn’t much to ask for a roof over your head. 

Upon your realisation, you gasp softly, taking a step backwards in a second’s hesitation, unable to decide what the appropriate response would be, before making your body co-operate and kneel before him. 

Or that’s what would have happened, if you hadn’t slipped.

With an echoing squeak of your boot slipping against the wet floor, you find yourself crashing to the floor with a grunt. Still, you scramble to your knees, ignoring the dull ache that starts to travel up your back, and bow your head.

It’s only then that your mind catches up with the situation and the fear starts to trickle in. An irrational fear maybe, seeing as you’ve never been given a reason to be afraid of him. But then, everyone else here seems to be to the point where it would be stupid too ignore it. You hoped that today you wouldn’t have to find out firsthand.

He chuckles to himself. “Well shit. ”

You hadn’t expected his voice to resonate so deeply, filling up the empty room. His heavy drawl, speckled with amusement, sent shivers up your spine and you weren’t quite sure what to do with it, choosing to keep your head down instead. Hyper aware of every sound, you had to fight with yourself not to look up as his boots started pacing towards you. He crossed the space with long easy strides until he was standing in the very spot on the floor you’d been concentrating so hard on.

“On your feet sweetheart.”

Looking up, you find the man staring down at you intently with tawny eyes glinting in the moonlight, his free hand outstretched in silent offering. You tentatively reach up and let him pull you upright. The warmth of his calloused hand taking you by surprise in the cool room. His touch lingers until you withdraw your hand to straighten up your clothes, suddenly very conscious of your appearance in the small space between you both.

So close you have to tilt your head to look up at his face, the smell of his musky cologne surrounds you. It stands out because you cant remember that last time you had met anyone who was able to afford such luxuries. Now you have the chance, you properly take in his appearance; an older man, with slicked back black hair, the beginnings of a graying beard and captivating eyes that you can’t seem to look away from.

“So, you’re the new girl huh.“

Eyebrow raised in question, a small smirk plays at his lips. It strikes you just how at ease the man is, a contrast to your own twisting gut. You bob your head a few times before finding your voice.

"Yes sir.”

Huffing a little laugh, Negan reaches out again with darkened eyes, this time to brush some hair behind your ear. Your breath catches in your throat as your skin prickles in anticipation. He seems to take a long time to do anything, but then, it might just be because you were acutely aware of every second.

Eventually he breaks the silence. “Whats your name doll?”

Internally you curse yourself to get a grip. You’ve faced countless monsters, not all of them dead. You’ve faced death and escaped so many times. You know you are so strong and so brave, yet standing in front of this man has thrown you completely off kilter. Your voice sounds small “Y/N.”

A devilish smile takes hold of the man’s features and your stomach flips. "Y/N huh? Well ain’t that abso-fuckin’-loutely adorable. Fuckin’ suits ya.”

Finding it ridiculously hard to read the bizarre man in front of you,  your eyebrows raise in surprise, taken aback by his somewhat condescending compliment.  After gearing up for something more sinister it catches you off guard. Despite being wary you feel your face start to tingle the tell tale sign of a blush creeping  upon your face. You wonder when was the last time you blushed. Yet at the same time you find yourself annoyed by the comment. Doesn’t he have something better to do than hit on you? The man does have five wives after all.

"Thanks.” You manage, hoping you sound grateful enough.

If Negan notices your inner turmoil he doesn’t show it. Instead finally getting to the point of why he decided to stop and talk to you. “Simon said you were all a-fucking-lone when the boys picked you up?”

You nod, thankful for something you would work with. He must be sizing you up to make sure you weren’t a threat. Smart really. Getting under your skin before asking you what he really wanted to know. But you didn’t have anything to hide. Feeling much more relaxed you recall the day the Saviors found you.

"That’s right.”

He nods himself and grunts in agreement. As though he approves of your answer. "Been alone for long? Or did you have a little fucking posse tagging along for the merry fucking ride that lost their way?”

You shake your head quickly, eager to put him at ease - presuming you were right of course. “I was alone. I’ve been alone for-” Trying to think back, memories flash before your eyes. Faces of people you once knew. Smiles. Laughter. Singing. A life you used to have. The bitters. How the people you knew and came to love died off one by one. Bitten. Taken. Murdered. How you were the last one left in the end. Alone. For so long you were starting to think you’d never see another living person ever again.

“I dunno. Long enough I guess.”

Shrugging out off your thoughts you find Negan watching you carefully. You meet his gaze swallowing thickly, wondering what it is he is thinking. Feeling more uncomfortable the longer it goes on you eventually look at your feet instead hoping he’ll say something else.

Apparently that was exactly what he was waiting for, because he claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the empty room and gestures widely. “So whaddya fucking think of this fucking place then huh? Pretty fucking cool ain’t it?”

You look again to see him grinning expectantly. Finding it’s rather infectious, you feel the corners of your own mouth turn up slightly, surprisingly at ease now. The sudden shifts in emotion in such a short space of time was exhausting. You hated to admit it but he had definitely gotten under your skin and it was all you could do to try and keep up and follow along.

“Sure” Nodding absentmindedly, you agree, thinking about how much you had seen of the place in the short time you had been there - although you were pretty sure there was plenty you hadn’t seen yet. “It’s pretty impressive to be honest. a lot better than being out there anyway. I didn’t think anything like this even existed anymore. It’s good to feel safe for once.”

“Safe huh?” He gives you that look again, making you go over what you had just said in case it was the wrong thing.  

Shrugging, you muse out loud. “Well safer I guess. Nothing’s really safe now if you think about it. But it’s better than being out there. Better than a lot of fucking thing really.”

Rather dramatically, in your opinion, Negan’s booming laugh fills the room. "Well that is fucking awesome. Y’know what? You have one motherfucking positive attitude yes you do. I fucking love it.” He adds pointing at you got good measure. 

You smile softly, catching yourself before you actually preen at his praise. His apparent good mood is infectious but the man is so hard to read you wonder how much of it is indeed genuine. Deciding to play it safe you try not to get caught up in it all. Despite yourself, you can’t help but feel glad he approved of that you said anyway. 

"So what the fuck are you doing here so fucking late anyway.” Having enjoyed his moment, Negan leans casually against one of the benches, resting Lucille against the wood. Reminded of what you were doing in her in the first place, you grab the mop and start wringing it out as if to illustrate your answer,

"Oh. I was just finishing up. It’s easier to mop when there’s no one around.” Not to mention more peaceful, but you weren’t about to tell him that. You didn’t want it to seem like you were complaining.

While Negan stays quiet, watching you push the mop back and forth, it occurs to you that maybe that was the reason he came to find you in the first place. Maybe you were being noisy when things were supposed to be quiet. You didn’t know where is room was either. Your stomach twists as you wonder if you had maybe woken him up. It’s hard to recall how loud you were really being, lost in your own thoughts. “I’m sorry if I made too much noise sir.”

At first he just looks at you, head cocked to the side. Then he smiles, slow and soft, in a way that seems to warm up the entire room. It feels almost intimate and if you had managed to stop blushing from before you most certainly would be blushing again. Maybe you hadn’t woken him up then. 

His voice is gentle when he eventually speaks. "Darlin’ with a set of fucking pipes like that? You can sing whenever the fuck you want.” 

It takes you a second to absorb his words. Feeling reassured but also taken aback by yet another compliment, mixed in with embarrassment catching up to you that you had been caught singing in the first place. You nod along in acknowledgement yet again not knowing how best to respond.

“In fact, I was quite enjoying that little fucking show you were puttin’ on there dollface. Next time don’t bother fucking stopping on my account.” 

Looking over to him again, his eyes are still fixated on you, a smug shit-eating grin stretching lazily across his face. You just blink at the man, completely baffled as to how best to deal with him. You couldn’t figure out what he wanted. 

It occurs to you that maybe it isn’t all a game. Maybe the myth is much bigger than the man himself. Maybe there isn’t an angle. Maybe the only one thinking in ulterior motives is you. After all, looking at the absolute facts rather than hearsay, he’s never given you a reason to be afraid of him.

Thinking of it that way, if he liked the way you sang, and didn’t seem to have a problem with you being there, then what was the harm in indulging him. It’s not like you were going out of your way to do something you didn’t want to do. Besides, it might not be a bad idea to stay in his good books anyway.

You nod and smile, letting yourself be pleased that he liked what you were doing. Besides, the prospect of ‘next time’ sounds rather appealing. Maybe next time you wouldn’t be caught off guard either. “Sure thing.”

Negan snorts, at what you’re not quite sure, nodding himself before slapping his hand down on his thigh and rising to his feet. He doesn’t bother excusing himself or giving any explanation when he crosses the canteen floor towards the door, right across where you just mopped. 

The last thing Negan says before the door swings shut behind him seems to be to himself. He sounds both amused and annoyed at the same time - if that was even possible. "Fuck knows we need more of that shit around here.”

In the end, you’re left standing in the middle of the damp floor in Negan’s wake. Staring at the swaying door as though if you concentrate hard enough it might tell you what the fuck just happened. Shaking your head you try and concentrate and finish up but you’re on auto pilot, thoughts consumed by the leather clad man that just waltzed in and managed to get under your skin in zero seconds flat. 

By the time you head to bed you’re no close to figuring it out but at least you’re glad that you managed to survive your first encounter with Mr Negan.


End file.
